Doomed Mate (Under a Fated Moon Series Book 1)

  Doomed Mate

  Under a Fated Moon Series

  Bella Love-Wins

  Contents

  Doomed Mate

  Blurb and Author’s Note

  Copyright

  1. Serena

  2. Gunner

  3. Serena

  4. Gunner

  5. Gunner

  6. Serena

  7. Gunner

  8. Gunner

  9. Serena

  10. Gunner

  11. Gunner

  12. Epilogue - Serena

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  BIO- Bella Love-Wins

  More Books in the Marked Chronicles Saga

  Doomed Mate

  A Standalone Holiday Novella from the ‘Under a Fated Moon’ Series

  Blurb and Author’s Note

  Blurb

  A chance holiday meeting on a long-haul redeye flight puts Dr. Serena Rizzo and her assistant, Dawn Nixon, face to face with smoldering hot twin cowboys, Gunner and Gage Olson. Disaster strikes, throwing their fates together as they struggle to make it home safely for Christmas. Who is the doomed mate?

  Author’s Note

  ‘Doomed Mate’, the ‘Under a Fated Moon’ series, and all of Bella Love-Wins’ shifter stories are set in a world which includes both natural born shifters, and shifters who are turned by a mystical immortal mystery woman named Theriona. The entire saga is called ‘The Marked Chronicles’. Be ready for sexy shifters of all varieties, witches, vampires, immortal beings, action-packed suspense, and a lot of romantic hook-ups! For the most part, humans are not aware of their existence. ‘Doomed Mate’ tells its own story and can be read on its own.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  DOOMED MATE

  First edition. OCTOBER, 2016

  Copyright © 2016 Bella Love-Wins.

  Written by Bella Love-Wins.

  Website: http://bellalovewins.com

  All Rights Reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Serena

  Eleven thirty p.m., December 20, Reno, Nevada

  I had eight personal air travel rules to follow, and I broke them all in one flight.

  In my defense, I was forced to disobey four of them purely by circumstance. I was on my way back to our Aquarius Space Technologies Group company headquarters in Houston, taking a redeye from Reno with a short layover in Dallas. I had missed my earlier non-stop flight. That kind of thing never usually happened, but there were unexpected construction delays on our descent from Mount Houghton. I was returning from a solar radiation monitoring station where I had been working for four days straight. That traffic holdup caused me to break two rules right off the bat, including never fly at night, and always take the most direct flight.

  This predicament put us on an Airbus A319 instead of the larger Boeing 737, which I preferred. The smaller aircraft had less leg room and not as much overhead space. Thus, there went another rule—always bring my calibration equipment bag on board with me as hand luggage. Having been forced to take this later flight at the last minute also meant I didn’t have my pick of seats. I was stuck in the middle of the three-seat block of chairs on the right side of the plane. A teenager was to my right, sitting in the window seat. That made me blow past yet another regime I religiously adhered to—always choose the window seat in the emergency exit row. At least the kid seemed quiet so far, leaning his head against the closed window with his eyes closed.

  “Check out the two hunks over there, Dr. Rizzo,” said my research assistant, Dawn Torres, from the aisle seat to my left.

  I leaned forward, and then hastily returned to my original position when I saw who she was talking about. “Shhhh,” I begged. “They’re right next to you.”

  “That wasn’t too loud, was it?” she asked, raising her voice even higher than before.

  The fact that I was not traveling alone led to my breaking another rule. It was a rare occurrence, but my blonde bombshell of a flirty, gregarious research assistant had accompanied me on this trip. We were only a couple of years apart in age, but appearance-wise, we couldn’t be any more different if we tried.

  Dawn was shapely, tall and long-legged, with the perfect heart-shaped face and big blue eyes, and always managed to fill out her clothes to seductive perfection no matter what she put on. I was average in every way, with dark brown hair in a perpetual ponytail and hazel eyes no one would ever notice behind my retro-styled square-shaped glasses. I stood five feet five inches tall, with an athletic build hidden under layers of practical clothing that never quite fit right. Our personalities were polar opposites too. While she was free-spirited and naturally friendly, I was withdrawn and yes, rather tightly wound. Plus I had my rules. A lot of them, not just these eight for air travel.

  The challenge with working alongside this particular outgoing chick was that in the eighteen months since we had been working together, I never knew what she would do at the drop of a hat. Like just now. A few moments ago, Dawn took her flirtatiousness to a whole new level. We had boarded early, and I was waiting for the flight attendants to come around for their final inspection, still working on my laptop. That’s when I noticed Dawn leaning into the aisle. I had to do a double-take when I realized why. Flirty girl had stretched her arm across the divide to squeeze the biceps of the smoking hot guy close to her.

  To be fair to her, the second whipping action of my neck in that direction was partly my own doing. It was in response to the man attached to the chiseled biceps Dawn’s fingers were pressing into, and the equally handsome and fit man beside him, likely his brother. No, they had to be twins. They looked exactly alike, with the same ice blue eyes, coppery brown hair under identical black Stetson felt hats, and square chins with jawlines so sharp I could probably use them as straightedge tools. With faces like that, I devoted some extra time to rake my eyes down their lean, fit bodies, all the way to their Lucchese cowboy boots.

  “Oh my goodness. It’s so hard, and so big!” Dawn exclaimed to the guy before turning to me. “You’ve got to feel this, Dr. Rizzo.”

  It was also at times like this that I couldn’t understand why Dawn insisted on addressing me with such ceremony. She certainly didn’t apply that formality to our interaction. I had asked her to call me Serena on countless occasions, yet she persisted. At the moment, it sounded particularly hollow, considering that her polite summon was connected to a request for me to crash through boundaries and decorum to stroke a stranger’s body part.

  “I think I’m good, thanks.”

  This is where another rule—don’t talk to strangers, especially not to a man who can potentially cause women to drop their panties before he uttered a single word—got a temporary concession. The one whose right arm was still being fondled by Dawn tipped his hat with his free hand when he noticed I was staring.

  “Howdy,” the sexy stranger said to me. He was most likely a Nevada local. That swift cadence in his baritone voice that made ‘howdy’ sound like ‘haddy’, along with his slightly Western drawl told me he was not from Texas, as Dawn was. I was originally from Chicago, so I noticed these things.

  “Hi,” I muttered, turning back to the safety of my laptop screen.

  “Y’all are brothers, aren’t you?”

  I was used to Dawn asking the glaringly obvious. This time, the question was comical, given that she had not yet released his arm. What had started off as touching had morphed into more of a repeated caress from the top of his shoulder down to his elbow, as though this section of his limb was now her prized pet. At any moment, I was expecting him
to swat her hand away, but he never did. He was probably used to all manner of women touching him without permission.

  He nodded. “Identical twins.”

  “Wow, that’s so cool. It’s such a freaky coincidence, too. That couple in the back over there are traveling with their twin babies.” She turned to me briefly. “Isn’t it cool, Dr. Rizzo?” I was thinking of how to answer that question in a way that would simultaneously preserve her cheerfulness and acknowledge that identical twins were indeed rare, when she turned back to the guys. “Are you gentlemen traveling for business or pleasure?”

  “Business,” he answered, with no further explanation.

  A man after my own heart. I could appreciate his reservation. It really was none of her business, but I knew what was coming next.

  And there it was.

  Dawn’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

  Had I known these men before today, this would have been an ideal juncture to warn them not to get her curiosity piqued. I silently prayed for her barrage of questions to be held back until after takeoff, when conversations would at least be partially drowned out by the deafening engines. My wish was answered when a flight attendant stopped behind Dawn’s extended arm. She chirped out a sunny but firm instruction to please not block the aisle. After Dawn let the man go, the flight attendant continued toward the front of the plane, checking to make sure passengers were buckled up, and asking us to turn off all electronics and put phones in airplane mode.

  Maybe there was a God.

  We had a smooth takeoff, except for the unfortunate high-intensity, high-volume, screeching-like, inconsolable cries of the twin babies at the back of the plane. As one quieted down, the other would become agitated and pick up the torch. It sounded like colic to me, although they could have been teething. I knew nothing about babies.

  Dawn’s conversation with the cute brothers soon became more of a monolog. She relayed to them her idea on what she had dubbed the airline designated crying baby theory. My assistant had surmised from her numerous trips by plane that every commercial flight was more or less guaranteed to have a minimum of one crying baby on board. The designated crying baby. It was preposterous, of course. However, that never stopped this brilliant, highly educated young woman from sharing it with pretty much everyone who would listen.

  The poor babies didn’t stop crying when the plane had leveled off, but the attendants came around with the snack and beverage service. I supposed that it helped to appease the passengers somewhat, myself included. I actually caved and begrudgingly accepted the offered food, plus I had a coffee, only because I was starving as a result of having missed our original flight. This was where I broke another one of my hard and fast rules of flying—never eat or drink on an aircraft. I’d always felt this was probably the most pragmatic of all my mantras, simply because refraining from food and beverages during flight reduced the likelihood that I’d break the last two of my eight cardinal rules—stay away from airplane restrooms, and always stay buckled up.

  Today was a new record. I’d never broken a single rule until now, and in one flight, all eight were stomped on and thrown out the window. This was not good. Chaos was sure to ensue. That was the thought running through my mind as I nervously unhooked my seatbelt and asked Dawn to let me pass. I hurried to the back of the plane with my travel-size bottle of hand sanitizer, hoping that if I made it quick, maybe I wouldn’t break out in hives from sheer panic.

  I unlocked the tiny restroom after using it without incident, although I’d completely finished off the sanitizer while cleaning up in there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I stepped out into the aisle, and looked left into the galley to make sure I hadn’t blocked off one of the attendants accidentally. No one was there, so I turned right to get back to my seat. That was precisely when I bumped into a fit, broad, well-defined chest. My hands, which had unmanicured, untrimmed, and unpolished fingernails at the moment, splayed onto the almost dizzying expanse of the man’s torso for balance, and when I finally recognized the plaid shirt, I realized it was one of the twins.

  Wow. He really was hard. And so big. I should have copped a feel when Dawn suggested it. My hands lingered for a few seconds too long, but thankfully my senses came back to me.

  “Goodness, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there,” I stammered, pressing off of his chest to take a step back. It turned out to be a clumsy, uncoordinated move away from him. One of my ankles twisted in my dazed state. “Ouch. Shit.”

  “It’s okay, miss,” he answered, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, thanks.” I found my balance and stayed in the same spot for fear of taking another misstep, and because his hand was still on my shoulder and having the most interesting effect on my usual clear-headedness. The two fingers of his hand that directly touched my collarbone felt like they burned into my skin. I craned my neck to look way up past what seemed like miles and miles of plaid to hazard another glance at his face. Sharp jawline, slightly hollowed cheeks, perfect lips, strong refined nose, thick dark eyebrows and a full head of smooth light brown hair that looked like the glowing rays of sunset shone on it and left it permanently bold and brassy. I vaguely noticed that he had probably left his hat back in the seat. I finally stopped at his piercing light blue eyes.

  “Um,” I whispered out, noticing that I had spent way too much time gazing. I reached my hand to my opposite shoulder to lift his arm up and off of me.

  There.

  Now I could focus again.

  More or less.

  “Yes. Perfectly fine over here. I’m all good now. Thanks for your help.”

  His delicious lips pressed into a smirk just then, and he nodded. “No problem, miss.”

  He didn’t move out of the way, though. Handsome just stood there, studying me until I was both embarrassed and completely self-conscious.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my seat now,” I finally said.

  “But I thought—”

  “You thought what?” I asked, cutting him off.

  He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the front of the plane. “Your friend told us you want to make a bet about the babies. She said that you suggested that I can’t—”

  “Hold on a second. You do realize I barely heard a word you gentlemen were saying to her from my seat, right?” Then I became too curious for my own damn good. “Wait, what exactly did she tell you that you can or can’t do with, to, or for those babies?”

  He cleared his throat. “You know what? Forget about it. I’m not too sure why I agreed, but I’m sure you’ve seen your friend in action. She can be quite—”

  “Convincing?”

  “You could call it that.” He began to turn, to head back up the aisle. “Sorry for troubling you, miss.”

  I should have let this stunningly sexy God of a man leave, just so I could get a nice long look at his backside. Too bad I didn’t. “What was the bet about?” I asked.

  Tall dark and cowboy did an about-turn.

  He checked behind him for a second, looking at the row where the couple sat with the babies. “In my neck of the woods,” he started in a whisper, “I’ve been told on a few occasions that I have a way with the little ones. Your friend didn’t believe me, so I accepted your wager.”

  “Which was?”

  “To prove that I can get them both to fall asleep in less than five minutes. I reckon it’s her bet, on account that you don’t know what I’m talking about right now.”

  Maybe I should have left well enough alone. I didn’t. For the sake of science and a quieter aircraft cabin, I nodded. “Let’s see it.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You and those babies. Let’s see this magic nurturing trick…if the parents will hand them over to a complete stranger, that is.”

  He shook his head and turned to face me squarely. “You’re on.”

  For some unknown reason, the handsome cowboy stranger took a step toward me. In an effort to a
void our collision, we both moved to the same side of the narrow aisle at the same time, only to still find ourselves on another collision course. This unplanned dance happened a few times before he held on to my shoulders with both arms, turned me to the side, and slipped past me into the galley.

  “What are you doing back there?” I asked. Maybe Dawn’s curiosity was rubbing off on me tonight.

  “Getting these.” He lifted two paper napkins, and placed one on each of his shoulders. “For the drool when they pass out.”

  “You’re pretty confident that you’ll win.”

  He gave me a wink, passing by me again. “It’s worth the prize.”

  Crap.

  In my haste, I hadn’t asked what Dawn put up as the wager. I didn’t get a chance to ask, either. He got to the row where the parents sat, introducing himself before pointing out to them that he was also an identical twin. His announcement made the couple warm up to him instantly. They eagerly informed him that the babies were six months old and teething. The mother shared that their names were Ava and Mia. When he offered to help calm them down, the overly trusting parents upped and handed over the little cuties to him.

  Just like that.

  I hung back, waiting to see how he’d charm these dark-haired infants into a silent slumber. The second he took them in his arms, they stopped crying and started babbling and gurgling. He tapped one toe to rock them a bit. After lowering his voice to an almost indiscernible volume, he said something to each of them. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Little Ava and Mia rested their adorable heads on each side of his neck, cooing sporadically for no more than a minute.

  Their fussing settled and they went silent. They fell asleep.

  What the hell?